


Around the Clock

by Sandalaris



Series: the white rabbit's pocketwatch [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crazy Belle (Once Upon a Time), F/M, Gen, Pre Relationship, incorrect dipiction of insanity, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandalaris/pseuds/Sandalaris
Summary: The 28th year since Storybrooke's founding saw many changes to the town. The mayor's fanciful son found he could leave the boarders for the first time in his short life, a coma patient stirred, and a long insane woman looked at the clock and laughed.AU where Belle escapes the hospital days before Emma's arrival,





	

**Author's Note:**

> In the same way that Jefferson's already unstable mind was driven into insanity by memories of a double life, Belle's lack of any memories and years of captivity has left her with her own brand of madness. 
> 
> Because you can't tell me that the time spent in the Queen's dungeon and then the subsequent 28 years locked in psyche-ward, especially one that so does not meet the USA's already subpar standards, wouldn't leave her with some lasting mental scars. Add in the curse trying to keep everything to the status quo, and you have this little gem.

Tick tock.

She can hear it. Couldn't always. Not like this. The clock has always ticked, the same repeated sound over and over and over, it's why it's circular after all. Nowhere to go, but 'round and 'round again. But now it's escaped, found it's other half. Screaming loudly and drawn her attention. Pulling her gaze from the white walls -they used to be gray -and letting her get a peak of its face through the little window.

Someone left it open. She could slip her arm through, she thinks. Reach down and open the door. Why would she want to do that? They are _helping_ her. White coated doctors with their sharp needles and sharper pills. Muscled men with their straps and hard water that leave her skin painted in purple and yellows.

She's been good though, hasn't fought nearly at all in so long and they let her take her meds like a good little girl. There hasn't been the creeping chill of the sedative in ages. Years and years. Has it been so long?

She looks at the clock again, sees the hands move. She gnashes her teeth at it, feels it in the curling back of her lips. It's never been honest before, what's changed?

Footsteps, approaching in an echo she recognizes like a mouse senses a cat. She taught herself that, when the walls were gray and warmed with flickering flames.

Eyes squeeze shut as she shakes her head, trying to dislodge the thought, because that's why she's here. Have to get better so she can go home. He's waiting.

_Who?_

She tosses her head again because it doesn't matter and it'll only upset her to try and remember. Then the men come and she'll have to be sedated and she's been so good. 

"Alright, miss," the nurse's voice calls, door swinging open and letting in the light. Flickering and somehow too bright, sneaking past her eyes to stab viciously behind. 

"Time for your meds," the nurse continues, picking up a small med cup from her cart. She's a big woman, broad shouldered and tall. She hardly needs the others to come to hold her down. The nurse likes it, she thinks, likes seeing her dragged under the heavy weight of the too big guards until she cries and crumples and-the nurse holds out the cup for her to take.

She doesn't want to. She just woke up, can't they see? And the candy-colored tablets will drag her back under. 

The nurse, noticing her hesitation, asks in amusement, "Are you goin' give me trouble today?" 

She shakes her head quickly. Everything tilts to the side a moment, rocks back and forth like she's on a ship before righting itself. She looks away, out the caged row of windows to catch a glimpse of the sea. She never got to see it. Before.

The pills rattle as the nurse shakes the cup, drawing her attention back. 

With shaking hands, she reaches out, let's the cup sit heavily in her hand. She doesn't want them, doesn't want to go back to sleep. Feels like she's been sleeping for centuries, her body up and moving without her knowledge or permission while her mind stayed locked away. She keeps trading one prison for another and then another. Except she's always been here. It's the walls that change. Inconsistent and unreliable.

A giggle escapes, sharp and dancing. White teeth snap them in half, catching the rest behind tightly sealed lips. Not here, not now. She has to get better.

"I don't have all day," the nurse snaps, and she tosses them back quickly. A good little girl. 

"There we go," the nurse says, almost gentle in the way she takes the cup back and hands her cup of water. 

The tablets on her tongue melt into bitter acid and slide ever backwards. She mustn't let them. Needs to stay awake. It's important, an adventure. Like a story she read once, about a prince on fire rescued by his love and a samurai while the men lie and won't let her play with them.

She takes the water, swallows a mouthful and hands it back. They won't let her keep it. Not safe. She's not safe. Might hurt herself. Hurt others. Except they've all gone away, left her here. Alone.

The press of biting chemicals below her tongue is overwhelming, seeping into her pores while her eyes fight to roll back in her head and her hands go cold and hot in intervals. They've melted, bits and pieces slipping treacherously past her defenses and down her throat.

The door shuts and she spits, letting out the leftover gritty mess with a mass of rolling giggles. Her hands hit concrete as she falls from her bed, knees cracking hard next. It hurts and tingles in a way that's not entirely unpleasant. The laughter bubbles up, popping in the air around her in a faint melody that is familiar. She tries hums along between peals of uncontrollable laughter, needing to catch the sound and _remember._

She's mad and they locked her up for it, but time is tick-tocking again and he's waited long enough. 

Time to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of the prologue in a series. Each will be pretty much stand alone, but will all take place in this mad little gem that sprung from my head.  
> There's no real plot, no story to follow. Just snippets of Belle's (and later on Rumple's) life in this what-if scenario.
> 
> The curse is doing the primary bit of making Belle insane, just fyi.


End file.
